


Kinship Within Contrast

by chloesinspace



Category: Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Humor, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Clint Barton Is Depressed And Needs Pizza, Humor, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jessica & Everyone Friendship, Jessica Jones Swears A Lot, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Post-Jessica Jones Season 1, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Steve Rogers Tries To Keep Everyone Sane, The Referenced Rape Is Specifically About Kilgrave, Thor Just Wants To Vibe, Tony Stark Still Has PTSD, post- CA:TWS, pre-AOU, the rest of the events will still happen but like differently
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28521831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chloesinspace/pseuds/chloesinspace
Summary: Jessica Jones can't stand the Avengers. She'll stay in Hell's Kitchen with her PI gig and her hands firmly out of any global catastrophes, thank you very much. Then one day her apartment blows up and Tony Stark is offering her a room in the Avengers tower. Jessica has her pride, but really, when her old place is up in smoke, who is she to turn down a kickass, rent-free room?(Haven't decided on ships yet, but some may develop.)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 21





	1. The Offer

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after season 1 of Jessica Jones, after The Winter Soldier, and before Age of Ultron. Lots of characters will pop up throughout and general MCU events will still happen, but with some divergence and more Jessica. Antics and angst abound. No ships have been determined yet but we'll see how long that lasts.

Another day, same old shit.

That’s how it usually goes, anyway. This time it was another day, but with all new shit. Or rather, the same old shit, just a whole lot closer to home. So much closer that Jessica Jones’ entire apartment complex had been reduced to several hundred square feet of rubble.

Some villain must’ve been fighting some hero. That’s how it always went, right? Not that Jessica knew or cared who it was, or what they were fighting over. This shit just seemed to happen more and more frequently these days, and at varying levels of destruction. Sometimes it was city-wide, like the alien invasion of New York, or that whole thing with some giant airships crashing down in Washington, DC. Sometimes it was just a local neighborhood catastrophe. Either way, it was getting annoying.

No one in her building had been killed by the explosion-- someone had thought to evacuate the place before Evil-Person-Wielding-Evil-Weapon came blasting through-- and for this, Jessica was grateful.

But that didn’t stop her from being pissed about losing her lease with the only place that was willing to overlook her reputation and let her rent at a price she’d likely never find again in Hell’s Kitchen. Not to mention losing most of her stuff. Many of the other now-displaced residents marched their way down to NYC City Hall in lower Manhattan, tired of the superhuman destruction and keen on compensation. Jessica eventually decided to join them-- ignoring the fact that she herself was one of the “gifted,” but it’s not like she went around smashing buildings, after all.

City Hall proved to be more of a disappointment than she could’ve imagined. Everyone, including her, had been turned away by their own city. The clerks simply repeated themselves, stating that the policies regarding superhuman disaster relief still awaited council review, that there was no state money approved to go anywhere. The displaced victims were told that they were, in the meantime, welcome to get comfortable in any of the boroughs’ evacuation centers.

As if anyone actually wanted that.

Jessica still fumed on City Hall’s doorstep hours later, itching for a chance to solve this crisis the only way she knew how, knowing it was impossible to do. She was finally deciding whether to call upon Trish for a couch to crash on or visit the bar for few drinks first, but a man in a sharp business suit interrupted her thoughts when he stepped to her side with an air of absolute ease.

Men in sharp suits didn’t sit too well with her these days.

“You’re Jones, right?” the man asked, peeking over his crimson-tinted sunglasses at her. “Jessica Jones? Super strength, questionable attitude?” He was a fast-talker, something Jessica couldn’t stand.

“Yeah,” she grunted. “Who’s giving a shit?”

“Confirmation with proof, we love to see it. Tony Stark. I’d shake your hand, but you look like you’d take the opportunity to snap mine in two.”

Jessica’s mouth curled with incredulity. All those entrepreneurs looked the same to her. “Where’s your tin can, then? Or are you not lording yourself over the rest of us in a physical sense today?”

“Ouch.” Tony sniffed. “That’s kinda harsh, considering what I just did.”

“I’m not asking, but I bet you’re gonna tell me anyway.” Jessica checked her watch, hoping to lose this asshole before happy hour ended.

“Sure am,” said Tony, making Jessica’s eyes roll. “New York City doesn’t have any funds allocated to the aid of those who suffer any loss or damages from, y’know, superhuman-y, alien-type, non-regular disasters, right?” He used his hands for emphasis. “So I contributed some of my own funds. That is to say, I’m funding the full recovery-- structure renovations, hotel suites for the victims, compensation for loss of possessions, all that rock n’ roll.”

This was the last thing Jessica expected to hear. Her cold stare relaxed, and all she could mutter was a simple, “... _Huh._ ”

“It’s the least I can do,” Tony continued. “I mean, it was kinda my fault, anyway. I didn’t get to those guys fast enough, not before they started blowing things up. The alien tech they built their homemade weapons with-- also my fault-- must’ve been an oversight from my sweep team, some pieces we missed when cleaning up after the ah, the whole… y’know.”

Jessica had heard some people claim they saw Iron Man flying around during the chaos earlier that day, but she’d brushed this off as an embellishment, typical crap from Avengers ass-kissers who always claimed they saw one in the sky or in their morning toast. “The whole thing with aliens pouring out of the sky?” she finished for Tony, shoving her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. She watched him take a deep breath and look away.

“That’s the one,” he affirmed.

“A real shit show.”

“Mhmm.”

A hard wind blew and Jessica caught the scent of his expensive cologne. He still hadn’t turned back to her.

“You know,” she began, “we’re not at church, and I’m not your confessional. No idea why you’re telling me all this. But… I get one of those hotel suites, right?” As much as she loved Trish, relying on her wasn’t Jessica’s favorite thing to do.

Tony finally turned back to her with a renewed enthusiasm. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Yes, you are included in that disaster relief, but you get a special second option-- your own room in my Avengers tower.”

Jessica blinked at him.

“Actually, this part wasn’t my idea,” Tony confessed, no steam lost in the pace of his words. “This one’s on Rogers. He saw your name on my list of aid recipients and recognized it from SHIELD’s database. Said you should be given the option to join us.”

_Rogers._ Squinting, Jessica tried to put a face to the name. “...The flag-waver?”

“He kinda wears it more than he waves it, but, yeah.”

A horrific fashion choice in Jessica’s opinion, and something she knew Trish secretly loved. But-- “But, wait, no, hell no,” she said, her voice rising, one hand help up as if to fend him off. “I do not want to be an Avenger. Are you kidding me? Fuck no!”

Tony held his own hands up and took a step back. “Hey, hey! Dial it back, sunshine. You wouldn’t be an Avenger. You’d just have a place to stay with us. Somewhere secure, with… what’s that word people like to use? With fellow ‘gifted’ individuals, like yourself.” He relaxed as Jessica’s stance eased slightly. “Steve just wants you to feel welcome, I guess. And I figured I’d come extend the offer myself while I was down here taking care of things with the city.”

Jessica felt like she was being pitched a used, overpriced car, and she frowned at him. “I work better on my own.”

“Suit yourself.” A sleek car pulled to a stop on the road and Tony stepped away to meet it. “Door’s always open, though,” he called over his shoulder. “Just tell them your name at the lobby.”

And then he was gone, carried off by spinning chrome rims, and Jessica was dialing Trish’s number.


	2. Decision

“You know,” came Trish’s voice over the phone, “you could use some new friends.”

Ice clinked inside the glass in Jessica’s hand and she leaned forward against the smooth, wood grain bar top. “Friends are overrated,” she said, and ignored Trish’s responding sigh. “Besides, what if I just get wrapped up in all their ‘hero’ crap?”

“You used to kinda want that, remember?”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “Not on a global scale. Not world-ending shit.”

“He did say you wouldn’t have to join their team.” Then came a soft curse from Trish, along with the sound of a car speeding by. Probably a missed taxi. “I don’t know, Jess, maybe it would just be good to be around other people who live the same kind of life you do.”

“What kinda life is that?” Jessica asked before finishing the rest of her whiskey.

“The… super kind?”

“I can sort of lift cars and jump really high. Big deal.”

“Jess, you can fly.”

“ _Guided falling,_ ” Jessica corrected.

“Still seems pretty super from where I stand.” The sound of a car door opening and shutting— a successful taxi. “What’s more important is you don’t have anywhere to live right now, and one of the world’s top billionaires just offered you what’s gotta be a private, luxury suite.”

“Hm.” Jessica tapped the bar top loudly with an index finger. “Maybe I’ll be neighbors with the big green guy.” Another glass of whiskey slid across the bar into her waiting hand, and she downed it like a shot.

Trish laughed. “I bet you could take him.”

“Don’t tempt me.” A smile very briefly tugged at Jessica’s lips, but she looked out the pub window to watch the passing cars and people, and the smile never took. “This sucks.”

Trish was silent for a moment. “I know you prefer being alone.”

“Sure do.”

“But maybe this will turn out to be a good thing. Give it a chance. You can always leave if it doesn’t work out, you know.”

After who knows how many drinks— Jessica never bothered to keep count— her vision was beginning to swim. “I need a nap first.”

Trish sighed. “Okay. Tell me what you decide later.”

“Can you make sure Malcolm gets his hotel suite from Stark’s disaster relief? Last I saw him, he was still helping people after the building went down.”

“Mhm, I’ll check in on him. But you know, you could always call him, too.”

Jessica dropped some cash onto the bar. “Bye, Trish.”

“Bye, Jess.”

The bartender, an older gentleman, trudged over to collect the cash and empty glasses from Jessica’s spot. “When you gonna pay off the rest of your tab, Jones?” he asked, though his tone suggested no hurry.

“Maybe Iron Man will take care of it for me. Apparently the guy is more charitable than he looks.”

The bartender chuckled. “Maybe when cows fly, darlin’,” he said, and Jessica gave him a smirk before slipping out the door.

It wasn’t until she was three blocks from her apartment that Jessica finally remembered her apartment wasn’t even _there_ anymore. So she picked the nearest alleyway that smelled the least awful and settled herself inside it, where she eventually fell asleep with her back against a cold brick wall. Three hours later she was awoken by some idiot trying to yank her messenger bag out of her arms. One half-assed punch to the nose sent the fucker running. Jessica checked inside her bag to make sure it still contained everything she’d managed to grab from her place before being forced to jump out the window earlier that day.

And there it all still was, clumsily piled together— her camera and its various lenses, her PI license, and her favorite worn-and-torn Nirvana T-shirt. Oh, and all her files on Hope Shlottman’s legal case and Kilgrave’s metaphorical footprints. Jessica would never understand what compelled her to grab those in a crisis.

The sun was now setting behind the distant skyline skyscrapers. With a hefty sigh, Jessica got to her feet and decided it was time to check out this Avengers’ tower after all.


	3. New Surroundings

Jessica had to tilt her head all the way back just to take in the entire sight of the Avengers Tower from where she stood on the sidewalk. The monumental pillar of metal and glass reached high into the night, the enormous “A” at its apex glowing brightly against a black sky. It was a symbol of safety, of guardianship, to people all around the world.

To Jessica, it was nothing more than a testament to sheer egotism.

She groaned loudly and succumbed to what felt like throwing herself down a set of figurative stairs as she shoved her way through the Tower’s rotating lobby doors. He clamor caught the attention of several people inside, all business folk judging by their attire. One clerk standing near the entrance looked like he was simply waiting to be of use and saw Jessica as his opportunity.

“Are you having any trouble, ma’am?” he asked.

Jessica looked past him, her nose wrinkling at the high ceiling, the polished surfaces, the decor typical of any asshole in possession of too much money. “What is this building even _for?"_ she demanded. It was practically an accusation in the form of a question.

The clerk blinked at her. “… I’m sorry?”

“I mean, it’s not like the Disaster Patrol uses every single floor in this place, right?”

“Oh. No, the use of this building is ultimately determined by Stark Industries, and is used for many of its projects. However the lowest floors often double as a convention center for things like fundraising events, university workshops, and other community necessities.”

“How generous,” Jessica muttered, hoping to sound as unimpressed as manageable.

The clerk was unbothered. A true professional. “Is there something you need help with, ma’am?”

“Jessica Jones. Stark said to give my name at the lobby.”

“Ah.” Without another word, the clerk stepped swiftly away to the front counter.

Jessica shifted her weight and flexed her fingers. Why was she doing this again? She breathed in deeply, inhaling the sickly sweet scent of _clean_. She actually missed coming home to the stench of booze and the intermittent smell of her old neighbor’s ever-dying window box roses. 

When the clerk finally came back he handed Jessica a glossy keycard. The front of it featured a photo of her face, which bore a very unfriendly expression. She recognized it as a mugshot from one of her many misdemeanor arrests. To see it on an Avengers access card was both kind of funny and also kind of fucking annoying.

“The top ten floors of the building are of exclusive access to members of the Avengers, and that elevator right there will take you to them,” explained the clerk. 

“I’m not an Avenger,” Jessica corrected him, loudly, and headed for the elevator.

It took a moment for her to find the elevator’s keycard panel (it was small, square, and lacking any indication whatsoever that it was meant for keycards), but once she waved her shiny new card in front of it, the top row of floor buttons illuminated. She selected the penthouse floor, despite having no idea where anything even was up there. A map, or something, would’ve been nice, she thought to herself as the elevator whisked her upward on the smoothest vertical journey she’d ever experienced.

She hadn’t made a bad choice. When the doors opened and Jessica stepped out, warm light activated across the room to chase the darkness away, and she found the penthouse to be an apparent lounge. It was vastly spacious, yet muted in its upscale decor. Jessica craned her neck to look around and saw a bar, a pool table, and several sitting areas, as well as a set of minimalist stairs leading to a second level. All the exterior walls were transparent glass, allowing for an impressive view of the surrounding city.

Most importantly, there was no one else here. That suited Jessica perfectly.

For a brief moment she stood at one of the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked past her own reflection to the city beyond. She stared at the world as it twinkled amid the blanket of night. She thought of Trish, and Malcolm, and Luke, and thought of how she belonged with them, not in this modern palace of heroes.

Then she made a beeline for the bar.

“It’s always happy hour somewhere,” Jessica murmured, dropping her messenger bag onto the bar and then climbing over to the other side, where a wide selection of liquor waited. She first grabbed a brand of whiskey that was far beyond her normal paycheck and took a swig straight from the bottle. Then she did the same with an equally luxurious brand of tequila. What was Tony’s was now hers, right? She stuffed those into her bag and settled on a bottle of red wine to take back with her to the stools side of the bar. Normally Jessica wasn’t much of a wine drinker, but today was a weird day.

It was too quiet in here, she mused as she settled onto a stool, resting her elbows on the bar top. There was no din of traffic. No neighbors stomping and shouting. Not even a steady hum of electricity from the lights. Just pure, absolute silence. It made Jessica’s ears ring. Quickly she pulled out her phone and began watching news coverage of the earlier chaos and of Tony Stark’s reportedly generous relief funds, just to have some noise to block out her own thoughts.

The bottle of wine was half empty when Jessica heard the elevator doors open. She scowled— she wasn’t in the mood to meet any more Avengers today.

There was the sound of footsteps, and then they stopped. “Miss Jones?” came a deep, polite voice from behind her.

Jessica let out a noise of agitation and switched her phone off. “Who else would I be?” she mocked, and when she rotated on her barstool to see just who it was she’d be having to put up with, she found the flag-waver himself standing there in sweatpants and a tank top. In one hand he carried a book, and his skin glistened from a recent shower. It accented the lines and curves of his arms, his collarbone, his neck. Jessica allowed herself to appreciate the view in spite of herself.

“Tony said you were still making up your mind,” he said, his brow raised apologetically, “otherwise I would’ve been here to give you a proper welcome. I’m Steve Rogers.” He extended his free hand in an offer to shake hers.

“I know. Though I almost didn’t recognize you without the spangly pajamas.” Jessica pursed her lips, contemplating, but she didn’t take his hand. Instead, she grabbed her bottle of wine and held it out to him. “Drink?”

Steve let his hand drop. “No, thank you. It’d kind of be wasted on me.” He gestured to himself. “Super metabolism, and all.”

Shrugging, Jessica set the bottle back down and turned to face the bar again, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder. “Well, I’m sure there’s juice or something back there for you. Bar’s all open.” She indicated the seat next to her with a nod.

Steve accepted the invitation, seeming relieved for it. He sat upon the stool beside her and placed his book down onto the bar top. Jessica leaned over to peer at its cover.

“ _Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep_ ,” she read the title aloud.

“Sometimes I come up here to read after a workout,” Steve explained. “Have you read this one?”

Jessica shook her head. “Nah. Don’t read much.” At this distance she could see just how blue his eyes really were.

“It’s interesting, to say the least. A dilemma of identity and purpose. Feels kinda familiar.” Steve paused for a moment to smile at her. “It inspired the movie _Blade Runner_ , which my friends had me watch first, and now I’m to read this. They’re always trying to catch me up on all things iconic.”

“Oh yeah.” Jessica struggled to recall what little facts she knew about the Avengers. “You’re from, like, eight hundred years ago or something.”

That made Steve laugh, loudly and heartily. “I’m not _that_ old, good grief. I went into the ice in 1945.”

Jessica couldn’t repress her smile and tried to hide it by having a drink of wine. “So, still feel weird? This new era and all that?”

“Nah. I’ve been here for a few years now, so I’m used to it, more or less. Although, new technology still blows my mind sometimes. Especially the things Tony tends to invent.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “Can’t believe he convinced me to come here,” she muttered, her gaze fixating on something far away as her mind suddenly dwelt on the events that brought her here. When she realized things had gotten quiet, she turned back to Steve. He was frowning softly now.

“You’re free to leave anytime,” he reassured. “I just wanted you to know you’re not alone, and you’re more than welcome with us.”

His words were so genuine it actually made Jessica feel a slight ache over her comment.

“I’m giving it a shot, don’t get so dramatic already,” she relented. “My work style just doesn’t usually allow for much… _teamwork_.” The word even tasted wrong on her tongue.

Steve seemed to relax. “We won’t bother you if you don’t want it, I promise. This is meant to feel like a home.”

They both went quiet again. Steve must’ve sensed that Jessica was done with conversation for now, because he opened his book and began to read, leaving her to drink at her own pace. With nothing but the sound of his breathing and his fingers against paper, a page gently being turned now and then, Jessica found herself gradually relaxing. Maybe she could get used to this after all.

Time slipped away, and with an empty bottle in front of her, Jessica finally yawned, and Steve looked up.

“Need me to show you to your room?” he asked.

“Sure do. Can you believe the clerk didn’t give me a map to this place?”

Steve laughed again, and they headed to the elevator.

It turned out each Avenger was given an entire half of a floor as their personal quarters. Steve’s were adjacent to Clint’s, and Thor’s were paired with Bruce’s. Tony was the exception, having an entire floor to himself, Pepper, and his Iron workshop. As for Jessica, she was getting the half a floor that was next to Natasha’s quarters.

The elevator opened to a sizable hallway that only featured two doors, one on each side of the hall.

“I think Nat’s on recon tonight,” Steve said with a quick glance at her door. “But everyone should be around to meet you tomorrow.”

“Yay,” said Jessica with as little enthusiasm as possible.

Steve shook his head, though he did it in good humor. “You’ve got two-factor authentication,” he explained, pointing at the security panel by Jessica’s door. “You’ll need your keycard, and it also requires a retina scan.”

“Jesus. And I thought Trish’s door system was overkill.” Hesitant, wondering if Stark Industries was gonna need a sample of her DNA next, Jessica allowed the scanner to register her retina.

“Welcome, Jessica Jones,” came a disembodied voice.

Jessica stared at the panel with derision. “It’s not gonna say that every time, is it?”

“Tony can probably disable that for you.”

“Thank Christ.”

Two steps in and Jessica could already tell these quarters were larger than her entire Hell’s Kitchen apartment had been. Like the lounge, it was open and airy, with nothing to interrupt the space save for a counter that sectioned off the fully equipped private kitchen. In one corner was a bed— which was huge— and then a large area with typical yet minimalist living room furnishings. Against another wall was a sleek desk with what looked like a very distinctly Stark Tech computer system, complete with semi-transparent screens. One door led to the private bathroom and another looked like it opened into a large, walk-in closet. 

“Holy shit,” was all Jessica could muster.

“Tony likes to make sure we’re comfortable,” Steve said, hovering in the doorway while Jessica continued to scrutinize everything.

“The guy doesn’t fuck around, I guess.” Jessica touched the couch. Soft, supple fabric. She ran her fingers across the kitchen counter. Smooth, cool stone. “That computer probably has the fastest internet known to mankind, huh?”

“I’m pretty sure Stark Industries has its own network, so, yeah.” Steve smiled. “Welcome to the Avengers Tower, Miss Jones.”

“Just Jessica,” she corrected, already tossing her bag and shrugging off her leather jacket.

“Of course. Goodnight, Jessica.”

“‘Night, Corporal.”

Steve started to close the door, but seemed unable to help himself. He poked his head back in to say, “It’s Captain,” and allowed Jessica to smirk at him before he disappeared with a click of the latch.

Within seconds Jessica was undressed and buried within the clean, smooth, silky sheets of her new bed. She definitely missed her old sheets, but for now, this was better than that nap she’d taken in an alleyway.


	4. Fractures

Jessica awoke twice the following day. The first time was not long after dawn, when blinding sunlight began to pour through the enormous windows of her quarters and forced her eyes open. Angry, practically growling, she rose from her bed and stomped to the window, only to find there were no curtains whatsoever to use as a shield from the sun.

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” she protested aloud. A person had to either be stupid or malicious to forgo curtains in a high rise. But then she remembered this was a Stark building, a literal monument to cutting-edge technology. There had to be _something_. After a minute of smacking her hand against the wall— she was far too drowsy to try anything more thorough— Jessica finally hit an embedded button, and it activated what seemed to be a literal sun shield. A sheet of thick, durable material slid from the top of the window to the bottom, covering the entire window and blocking out all light. Her room was darker now than it had been at nighttime. 

“Good,” Jessica mumbled, dropping herself back into bed and slumbering once more.

The second time she awoke was well into the afternoon. She laid there in the dark for a while, remembering what Steve had said about meeting everyone else today, and she pondered her chances of survival were she to simply jump out the window instead. It almost made her wish she’d mastered flight so she could glide into the distance and never look back. Eventually however, and with a big sigh, she got up and dressed in the same clothes she wore yesterday, irritably resigned.

Her sour mood was softened somewhat when she found a gift waiting outside the door of her quarters. Taped to the floor for her to find was a piece of paper, and on it was penned a boxy illustration. Jessica snatched it and, upon closer look, found it to be a map of the Avengers’ floors. She read the handwritten labels beside each area: there were ordinary amenities like a fully equipped gym, a laundry facility, extra storage, a communal kitchen and dining area— and then there were the not-so-ordinary, like a firing range, a gear and weapons locker room, and several laboratories for various purposes. Some areas had explanatory notes written beneath them. It was all incredibly detailed. Jessica flipped the page over and found one more elegantly scrawled note:

_The map you were owed from the start. Meet us in the lounge whenever you’re ready._

_— Steve_

A crooked smile found its way to Jessica’s lips as she folded the paper and tucked it away into the pocket of her leather jacket.

And then she was riding the elevator back up to the penthouse lounge. No sense in delaying the inevitable, she told herself. The doors slid open, and she wondered if she could get away with heading straight for the bar, but Tony Stark was standing not too far from where the elevator let out.

“Goodness,” Tony remarked as he turned to her and feigned shock. “I was beginning to think Steve hallucinated you last night. Welcome back to the land of the living.” Unlike the last time Jessica had seen him, he now wore casual clothing: a Deftones t-shirt and blue jeans.

Jessica raised a brow back at him. “Ironic. The sun visor on your windows is so effective, I thought I’d woken up dead.”

Although her retort seemed to catch Tony off-guard, an amused smile still formed to grace his mouth. Jessica brushed past him.

Sat in one of the nearby cluster of armchairs was Steve, and he looked up from his book. “Jessica! How did you sleep?”

“Not bad,” she answered nonchalantly, though in truth it hadn’t been very restful at all. Her room, like the lounge last night, had been far too quiet for comfort. She’d need to invest in a noisemaker.

“Did you find your map?” Steve asked.

“Sure did. I had no idea such excellent room service was one of Captain America’s specialties.”

“I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you got lost and found yourself on the Quinjet landing pad,” Steve joked.

“You know,” said Tony, who joined them at Jessica’s side, “I think I designed the floor plan to be pretty intuitive. Well, it was mostly Pepper who polished the blueprints. And don’t even think about questioning her intuition.”

Steve’s shoulders shook with a chuckle. Jessica almost came back with a jab about steel castles, but she was distracted by two individuals who now descended the stairs from the lounge’s upper level. They were also dressed casually, making it hard for Jessica to put names to their faces. She mused on how strange it was to see all of them in anything but the ridiculous costumes they, for some reason, would willingly don.

“Power Woman!” exclaimed the man with a grin.

Jessica instantly scowled. “Absolutely _not_ ,” she warned. A heroic nickname was the very last thing she wanted, on earth, ever.

“Just ignore Clint,” said the red-haired woman, who spoke softly and with a coy smile. “I’m Natasha. I hope the boys are treating you well enough.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Clint continued, taking no hints. “It’s a kickass title. I mean, you can lift cars and stuff, right?”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “Even if I could punch a planet out of orbit, I’d still say go to hell.”

Clint raised his hands in defeat.

Steve set his book down on an end table and stood. “I’ll ask Bruce to come up. He likes to stick to the labs, but he said he wanted to meet you.”

In her head Jessica counted all the Avengers she could recall, wondering just how many more first meetings she’d have to deal with. “...Where’s the one with the hammer? With the lightning, and all that.”

“Thor’s out,” said Tony. “He’s doing— I dunno— space stuff, I guess. Something about protecting the nine realms. He likes to drop by every few days and tell us all about his victorious battles. The guy really has a thing for celebratory feasts.”

Jessica snorted. At least that was one less introduction for today.

While waiting for Bruce to arrive, Jessica foraged for breakfast in the form of snacks stored behind the bar, which Clint helped her to find. It turned out his diet was as stupid and depressive as hers, though she couldn’t fathom why. She regretted accepting his help when he sat next to her at the bar and asked extensive questions about how much she could lift and how hard she could punch. All she wanted to do was eat.

“But are you bullet-proof?” he asked, way too fascinated for someone who hung out with superheroes on a regular basis.

“No,” said Jessica, impatient for the grilling to end, though she remained on the stool next to him. “You know what I could definitely do? I could put your skull straight through this bar top. Wanna see?”

Clint only grinned, which tempted Jessica to do it even more. How do these people _stand_ each other?

Bruce Banner mercifully made his appearance then, giving Jessica a reason to escape. She jumped from her stool and crossed the room.

“Miss Jones,” Bruce greeted, extending his hand, though not as confidently as Steve had done the night before. Jessica gave him a once-over and could see how inwardly this man held himself. She also knew, from all the news she’d ever seen about the green monster, that his stance had nothing to do with a fear of others, but a fear of himself.

There was only a moment of hesitation before she took his hand and allowed him to give it a brief shake. “Just ‘Jessica’ is fine.”

Steve raised his brows. “Oh, so he gets a handshake, and I don’t?” he accused playfully.

Jessica narrowed her eyes at him. “I offered you wine. Not my fault you didn’t take it.”

Steve let out a laugh, and then his attention was claimed by Tony for a different conversation.

“It’s good to have you with us,” Bruce continued, pushing his glasses up his nose. He spoke in soft tones the same way Natasha did. “I know you’re not part of the team, but I believe the phrase ‘the more, the merrier’ can still apply here.”

“Yeah, well. Let’s just say I’m not used to having a lot of company, merry or not.”

“Hah, I’m in that same boat. I was on my own for a long time before SHIELD recruited me.” He paused. “Not that you’ve been recruited by us, or anything—”

“I think it’d be fabulous if you’d let us recruit you,” interrupted Clint, who meandered over from the bar, and Jessica glared at him from beneath her eyelashes.

Natasha argued from where she now lounged, “Let the woman do what she wants, Clint. Jesus.”

“But she’s got an amazing skill set!” Clint insisted, and then he turned back to Jessica. “I mean, you’re the one who was in the paper a while back, right? You took out that mind controller.”

_No. No. No._

The last thing Jessica wanted to talk about was _him._

Natasha had a look of realization dawning. The room went quiet as Steve and Tony dropped their own conversation to listen in. Bruce seemed suddenly uncomfortable, shrinking into himself even further.

Clint continued, taking no notice of the threatening look Jessica was giving him. “Or, at least, it was some guy who allegedly had mind control powers. The news said he was so riddled with guilt over his own atrocities that he made Jessica finish him off. But you were tailing him anyway, weren’t you, Jess? I say that’s brave as hell.”

_I wasn’t brave,_ thought Jessica. _Hope was brave. Luke was brave. Not me. Not me._

“I remember that,” Steve piped in, though to Jessica, he sounded very far away underneath the pounding in her ears. “We should’ve done something to help sooner, when the rumors first started circulating.”

Bruce spoke in a timid voice, “We’d dealt with mind control in the past, but that instance of it was only effective through the use of a powerful object. Natural abilities of persuasion didn’t seem biologically possible at the time.”

“Guys, we probably don’t have to talk about it right now,” cautioned Natasha. She was looking directly at Jessica, her brow knitted in concern.

And Jessica wasn’t sure at what point she’d begun clenching her fists so tightly it made her tremble.

It had always infuriated her the way Hogarth, her self-appointed defense attorney, had managed to convince the court, as well as the entire world, that Kilgrave had forced Jessica to take his life. So what if it kept her out of prison for first-degree murder? It left the impression that he’d maintained control over her to the very end. It took away her agency. It absolved her of the responsibility that burdened her for ending someone’s life— and for letting so many others die before she could take that life. The idea that it hadn’t been her choice, that it wasn’t of her own volition, that she didn’t do what she had done for the reasons that had driven her so singularly… 

It took so much away from her.

Clint was backpedaling now. “I only brought it up because of what I went through with Loki, and—”

“He didn’t _make_ me do it,” Jessica blurted before she could stop herself, and she spat the words like a furious snarl.

Every eye in the room turned to her.

“He didn’t?” Bruce’s soft voice broke the silence.

Jessica shook her head slowly. “I killed him because I wanted to. I tracked him down, I cornered him, and I snapped his neck with my bare hands. And I would do it again… because I _had_ to.”

Trish always said Jessica had a way of killing conversations. Well, she’d just performed a flawless demonstration.

No one else spoke. In fact, as Jessica turned her burning gaze upon each them, they all dropped their eyes and looked away.

All except for Steve. He stared back at Jessica with a visage that had become as hard and severe as stone. It was an unnerving contrast to what had moments ago been one of the most gentle faces Jessica had ever seen.

“If you had to hunt him down and corner him,” Steve said in a voice as cold as his stare, “then you could have chosen not to.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” insisted Jessica, but even as she said it, her deepest reservations said otherwise. _Murderer. Monster._ She’d already heard it all. “He was killing innocent people,” she added, her voice rising.

“It’s commendable that you saved lives,” said Steve, his frown still set and his eyes still unyielding. “But you weren’t truthful about it when it mattered, and now you’re announcing it like it was a personal victory.”

“That’s not—”

“Could’ve thrown him in prison,” said Tony, who looked less stern than Steve, but still pursed his lips and folded his arms. “I know for a fact the DoJ is working on a specialized, ultra high-security prison for super crooks.”

This was news to Jessica. Had she known about it sooner, would she still have committed her second murder? Would the option have mattered at all when Hope’s dying request had been for the death of Kilgrave? Worst of all, it made Jessica question how much the act of taking Kilgrave’s life had been rooted in morality and not simply her own satisfaction. _Monster. Murderer._

“Or you could’ve gotten us involved,” Tony went on. “We had every chance to off Loki after what he did to the city, but we let Thor throw him to the Asgardian wolves.”

Jessica’s jaw nearly dropped, and she shouted back, “You had a thousand chances to intervene. There’s no way you didn’t see it in the news. Trish made sure headlines were getting out all over the goddamn place!”

“At the time it seemed like a series of unconnected events,” said Clint, who was now turned fully away, his hand rubbing at his head. “And we figured people were just using the idea of a mind controller as a plea to get out of jail time for their own crimes.”

“Yeah?” snarled Jessica. “Well you really stepped in shit on that one, huh? The Avengers leaving innocent civilians to be torn to literal pieces by a psychotic, super-powered asshole.”

Clint peeked at Natasha, but she was staring out the window from where she still calmly sat, her face unreadable.

Steve’s cold stare fell to the floor. He ran a hand over his mouth, contemplating. Jessica wished he’d keep whatever it was to himself. Her own vision was beginning to tunnel.

“Killing him out of self-defense would be one thing,” Steve finally said, “but if you tracked him down specifically to murder him—”

“ _Everything_ I did around him was self-defense,” Jessica interrupted, enraged. “He was killing people I cared about! He was stalking me, ruining my life, driving me insane.” She wouldn’t tell them the ways in which he violated every inch of her. That part was none of their fucking business. “My sister was in danger. My—” What could she call Luke? Not her lover. Not anymore. “—My friends were being threatened. He mutilated every person who got in his way, no matter how uninvolved they were. And I was the only person who could do anything about it, because I was the only one he couldn’t control!”

“It didn’t have to be your only choice,” said Steve. He met her eyes once more, and his face had regained traces of softness and sympathy. It only fueled Jessica’s rage.

“Bullshit!” Her hands lifted and her fingers flexed. She wanted to grip her own skull, or pull her own hair out, or punch anyone, anything.

Tony shrugged. “It’s not like the guy was some cosmic invader, or an unstoppable, mystical force. Other measures could’ve been taken. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jessica shifted her weight and gave him the best contemptuous expression she could muster. “I remember when you announced to the press that you were gonna go kill some terrorist, because you suddenly felt like it. Even gave him your home address. The Invincible Iron Man can kill whoever he wants, right?!”

That got Tony’s full attention. Jessica could see the muscles in his jaw clench. “You know what, yeah. I screwed up. Thanks for the reminder. Oh and, also, that guy allegedly orchestrated mass bombings on a global scale, so, kinda needed to be dealt with.”

It was getting harder and harder for Jessica to breathe. “So you people only get involved if it’s aliens or World War goddamn Two.”

“We’ve done more than you have,” argued Tony. He now looked just as pissed as Jessica felt. “Who’re you again? I wouldn’t know, since the one time you helped people, the official story is you were just some lunatic’s suicide assistant.”

Jessica wanted to put him through a wall right then and there. Steve began to confront Tony over what was being said, but Jessica wanted none of it.

“That lunatic would’ve turned you into his toy,” she screamed at both of them, forcing their attention back to her. “Do you get that? All he would’ve needed to do was say the words, and you would’ve butchered everyone you love, and then thrown your own sad self off a fucking cliff. You should be _thanking_ me, because it would’ve been so easy for that asshole to get rid of the Avengers if he’d ever decided to. And yet here you are, all of you, giving me shit from all sides for what I did.”

“We’re not trying to give you—,” Bruce began to say.

But Jessica cut him off. _“Enough!”_

Everyone went silent again. It was beyond stifling. The floor seemed to momentarily tilt beneath Jessica’s feet. She lurched forward, past all of them, toward the elevator, ready to throw a punch if anyone dared to try and stop her. None of them did.

“Thanks for reminding me why I’ve always hated the Avengers,” she spat back at them before the elevator doors closed. “You aren’t heroes. You sit up here in your luxury palace, and you watch the rest of us die.”

After a quick stop to grab her satchel from what she no longer considered her quarters, Jessica was rocking on her heels inside the elevator as it sped toward ground level, and she launched herself out of that confined space as soon as she was able. In her haste she nearly knocked some poor bastard over in the lobby. They’ll live, she told herself, but muttered a livid “sorry” nonetheless. 

She needed a fucking drink. Then she remembered the extremely expensive alcohol she’d stashed in her bag the previous night. At least one good thing came out of this shit show.

Once she was out on the crowded sidewalk, she spotted a city bus that was in the process of boarding. It didn’t matter to her where it was going— away from here was good enough right now. Careful not to get jostled by the foot traffic, Jessica hurried to the bus, hopped on, and swiped her bus pass (it miraculously still had currency). She threw herself into a seat at the back, still fuming beyond belief.

Assholes. All of them.

The bus remained there for a bit longer, still loading a passenger now and then. _Birch Street. Higgins Drive. Cobalt Lane._ Jessica wished very badly for a brown paper bag to hide her bottle of whiskey in so she could go ahead and down it without being kicked off the bus for public intoxication. Eventually someone sat down in the seat next to her. Jessica, determined to ignore them forever, kept her head turned away. 

“I’m sorry for all of that,” said the person beside her, making her jump. She whirled in her seat to find Natasha smiling a bit abashedly at her. 

_God fucking dammit,_ thought Jessica. She considered leaping from the bus, but it had already closed its doors to pull away from the curb, and the windows would be a hassle to get through.

“What are you, a fucking ninja?” Jessica grumbled.

Natasha considered this. “Sort of?” she finally said.

“Congrats, you snuck up on me. Now back the hell off.”

“They mean well,” Natasha patiently continued, “but none of them understand. Not really.”

“Understand what? Murdering a murderer, and wondering what that makes you?” Jessica didn’t bother to mask her sarcasm, despite how candidly she now spoke.

But Natasha’s answer was plain. “Yes,” she said softly.

That one word gave Jessica pause. Though she was still angry, she couldn’t think of a response, scathing or otherwise.

“I’ve taken a lot of lives,” Natasha explained. Her gaze dropped, and she stared down at her hands. “I’ve done it for SHIELD, for those I served before SHIELD… and for myself. I’ve killed when it was necessary, and also when it wasn’t. Sometimes it was a last resort. Other times, it was first instinct. I know what it’s like to carry that with you and question yourself. I question every reason I’ve ever had.”

It showed on Jessica’s face how taken aback she was by this unexpected soul-bearing. Wondering what had prompted this, she suddenly recalled how completely silent Natasha been in the tower. And then she recognized it, this vulnerability. What a rare and precious thing, to share a truth you hardly can reveal to even yourself, let alone to another, and hearing Natasha’s helped to quell Jessica’s rage.

After a few moments of simply riding the bus together in silence, Jessica finally asked, “Do you think about them?”

Natasha met her eyes again and offered a small smile. “All the time.” There was a sense of acceptance in her voice. “But Clint, and the others… They help me put my mind to other things.”

A huff of air blew from Jessica’s nose. “Lucky you.”

“But they were wrong to react the way they did to you,” Natasha emphasized. It made Jessica feel slightly better.

“Like assholes?”

“Mhm.”

“What’s their problem, anyway? It’s not like they were there. They have no idea what Kilgrave was like.”

Natasha pursed her lips. “Steve and Tony both tend to approach situations in ways that fit their own world views,” she explained. “As much as they’ll bicker with one another, they’re very similar in this regard.”

Sinking lower into her seat, Jessica frowned. “The hell does that even mean?”

“Steve’s life was defined by war for a very long time. You know the story of Captain America, right?” Jessica nodded—she knew the basic details— and Natasha went on. “Soldiers in a war are told there are only two sides: a good side and a bad side. One could call it a type of indoctrination. As a soldier, Steve fought the bad guys for the sake of the good guys. It fosters the belief that killing the enemy is an inevitability of war, and that soldiers should lay down their lives for the cause. I think it led to Steve seeing lethal force as occasionally unavoidable, but only in very specific circumstances: ‘grand scale’ circumstances.”

Jessica’s frown deepened. “So, me killing Kilgrave was like me throwing a guy into a coffin for no good reason?”

“He knows you had reason… he just can’t exactly fathom that reason. He’s dealt with a World War, an alien invasion, and the resurgence of a world-dominating organization. It gave him a perspective that views a situation like Kilgrave as ‘manageable’.” Natasha used air quotes for clarity. “Less magnitude, less gravity, more options on how to deal with it. He just wasn’t considering the magnitude it had in _your_ world.” Natasha gave a half smile. “He’s learning to shed his soldier self, though. Steve knows more about my past than most of the Avengers do, but he’s told me he would still trust me with his life.” Her smile grew, and Jessica took note of the way it brightened all her features.

“And Tony?” asked Jessica, still unwilling to forgive either of them, but willing to listen. The sound of Natasha’s soft voice was soothing.

“Tony’s life was also defined by war, in a way. Weapons were the most defining product of Stark Industries under both him and his father for decades. In fact, it was Tony’s father who helped turn Steve into a weapon for World War II.”

“What a pair,” Jessica said with a roll of her eyes.

Natasha suppressed a small laugh before moving on. “Manufacturing weapons for large-scale conflict instills the idea that death is just a by-product of that conflict. When Tony became Iron Man, suddenly _he_ was the one using his own weapons to fight the bad guys— only, he wasn’t fighting in a war. He was fighting on his own terms. And unlike Steve’s time as a soldier, Tony had the freedom to pick his own targets, like the Ten Rings, or the Mandarin. He didn’t see an issue with using lethal force, so long as the threat seemed big enough, and so long as he was the only one with the power to use his own weapons in that way.” Natasha brought her hands together, entwining her fingers. “Neither Steve nor Tony see themselves as killers even though they’ve both taken lives.”

This rekindled some of Jessica’s anger, and she glared out the window at the passing city scenery. It had fractured a part of her just to take the life of her own tormentor. She couldn’t imagine being a soldier, or a warmonger, or anything in between.

But maybe it was sad in its own way, to be America’s little soldier, or daddy’s little warmonger. _Maybe we’re all just miserable in our own stupid ways,_ Jessica thought.

Natasha seemed to be waiting for a response, but continued when Jessica stayed quiet. “I know Steve has never taken pride in harming others, and I think guilt is finally beginning to catch up to Tony... but neither of them would believe they should be jailed for it.”

Jessica turned back to her with a quirked brow. “Didn’t you tell Congress to eat shit and not arrest you for any of the stuff you did?”

Natasha grinned and tucked her hair behind her ear. Jessica watched sunlight play in the orange strands.

“I was playing a questionable hand and hoping Congress would fold,” Natasha admitted. “The truth is, I was afraid of being locked away for things that already haunt me. I’m aware of what I deserve, and I can’t argue against it, but… I was scared.”

There was a moment when Jessica felt as though these words could’ve been coming from her own mouth. 

Natasha’s eyes had focused beyond Jessica, through the window, beyond the world outside of them. “Steve and Tony would never call themselves monsters. But I think that might be what I am.” Now she looked at Jessica with a soft, sad smile, and Jessica realized it was the first time either of them had said the word aloud.

“Anyway,” Natasha broke away from their shared look, “I’m sorry I chased you down with this. I just didn’t want your whole day to be ruined by the bad behavior of a couple silly boys. They have good hearts, I promise.”

Jessica watched her get up from the seat, and almost wished she wouldn’t go. “There’s no way this is your opening seminar for all the new people,” Jessica said, hoping to sound indifferent, and failing. “Why bring all the walls down just for me?”

A long moment passed in which Natasha merely stared away. Her eyes flickered ever so slightly. “I see something familiar in you,” she finally answered. “I suppose that’s all.” She gave one last smile. Then the bus was approaching a stop, and she turned to leave. “Take care, Jessica Jones.” And then she was gone.

Jessica rode the bus around its circuit for another two hours, dwelling on every word Natasha had said, and the sun was setting into evening colors when she finally found herself at Trish’s apartment, where she relayed all of the last two days’ events to her sister, who became engrossed by every detail.

“I can’t believe they would even bring up Kilgrave in the first place,” Trish said after the story had concluded. She sat on her couch with a mug of hot cocoa, and Jessica was beside her, gratefully taking swigs of the whiskey she’d swiped from Tony.

“Yeah, well. That Clint guy is weird, I guess.” It was all Jessica could think to say. She was annoyed at him for starting it, but he hadn’t pissed her off nearly as much as the Dynamic Bitching Duo.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I was really hoping it’d be a good change for you.”

Jessica scoffed. “I keep telling you, heroes aren’t good for anyone.”

Trish made a face and practically pouted at her mug. 

At that moment, Jessica’s phone buzzed in the back pocket of her jeans. “Why the fuck,” she grunted, awkwardly leaning so she could fish it out, “is everyone _bothering_ me today?”

Trish laughed and sipped her drink. Grumpily, Jessica checked the screen and saw a text from a random number.

“Fucking spam,” she muttered, then noticed the first line of the text, which read, _It’s Steve. I truly apologize if I’m bothering you._

“Oh, Jesus,” groaned Jessica.

Trish leaned over to read the screen. She gasped.

“No!” said Jessica.

“I wanna know what he says!” Trish pleaded with her.

“I don’t.”

“Maybe he’s apologizing!”

“You just love Captain America.”

“Not after what he said to you! I wanna see him admit he was wrong for it.” Trish was reaching further and further for the phone as Jessica held it away.

“Okay, stop! You’re gonna spill your drink on me.” Narrowing her eyes at her sister, Jessica opened the text and held out her phone so they both could read it.

_It’s Steve. I truly apologize if I’m bothering you._

_I know you never disclosed your phone number to us, so this technically counts as a breach of privacy. You’re completely within your right to report me for this if you want to. I’m only reaching out to tell you that I am fully and genuinely sorry for everything I said to you, the way I acted toward you, and for the assumptions I made today._

“Aha!” exclaimed Trish.

“Jeez,” Jessica winced, “that was right in my ear.”

“Sorry.”

_I didn’t know, and I still don’t know, a single thing about the situation you had to endure, and it was completely out of line for me to make any judgments on you or your actions. I sometimes think myself wise based on the sum of my experiences, only to then learn again and again that I truly don’t know anything at all. What I may have done does not equal what you should have done. When you told me that you did the only thing you could’ve done in the situation that was unfolding, there’s no excuse in the world for me to disbelieve you._

_I went through the archives and found old news pieces detailing what that man was doing to people. I regret overlooking it more than ever. You’re right, I wasn’t a hero to anyone who needed it back then. You were the hero. You saved lives, and you stopped someone who needed to be stopped. I am in endless awe of you. I apologize profusely if my ignorant words today made you feel otherwise._

_I realize how grossly out of line it would be to ask you to consider returning to the Tower, but I believe you gave us a grounded perspective today that was desperately needed. All of the Avengers, myself included, view the world through wildly unique lenses. I was born almost one hundred years ago, for example. Perhaps we sometimes need to be put in our place._

_What I’m trying to say is, I understand if you are done with us for all of time. In fact, I should be encouraging it, given how atrociously we acted. But I also want you to know that you would be welcomed back with open arms should you ever wish to stop by. We were the ones in the wrong._

_Best regards,_

_Steve_

“I can’t believe he ends his texts with signatures,” Jessica muttered.

Trish sipped her cocoa. “I thought it was a nice apology.”

“I bet Natasha got to him or something. That’s all.”

“So? He still cared enough to write that whole thing out.”

Jessica’s nose wrinkled. She stared back down at the text, rereading parts of it. “‘You’re completely within your right to report me for this.’ Can you imagine if I reported Captain America for blowing up my phone without permission?”

That got a hearty laugh from Trish, and Jessica took a drink from her whiskey. Then her phone buzzed with a brand new text.

“God, there’s more?” Jessica said, irritated again. “Wait, this one’s from Stark. They’re _both_ bothering me.”

Trish immediately leaned forward once more to read the text. Heaving a loud sigh, Jessica opened it.

_Hey, it’s Tony. I’m not good at apologies, even though you’d think I’d have mastered them by now, considering how many I owe and how often I owe them, but I’m gonna give this my best shot._

_I was an asshole today. I can hear you saying, “you’re always an asshole, Tony,” only it’s not your voice in my head, it’s Pepper’s, but I’m already getting off track. Not only was I an asshole, I was a hypocritical one. I was giving you shit for things I myself have done in the past. Maybe I was projecting, because I don’t really like the things I’ve done. But that doesn’t give me the right to give you shit for anything. Especially not for things I know nothing about. Hell, you had to deal with what sounds like one of the scariest guys in the world. Maybe I was angry because I knew there wasn’t much I could’ve done about it, had it been me._

_Now I’m just giving myself excuses. I gotta stop doing that, too. Plain and simple: I was wrong. I shouldn’t have said any of the stuff I said. I fly around the city all the time, yet I have no right to presume anything about the people who live in it, or what their lives are like, or what they’re going through, or anything like that. I put the Kilgrave thing way beneath my own radar, so I have no room to judge you for what you had to do when dealing with it all on your own._

_Man, I really was being a huge asshole, wasn’t I? Look, I think Rogers already texted you this, but we’re ready to admit how idiotically wrong we all were if you ever decide to come back. He feels like crap over it (so do I, but I’m not gonna admit that or anything), and I think Nat has taken a liking to you. But if you decide not to, you’ll still be getting your share of the disaster relief fund. I’ll even give you extra compensation. You know, “the Avengers were dicks to me” compensation. Let me know how that sounds. Or don’t, you can also ignore this forever if that’s the better option._

“He sounds,” Trish paused, searching for the word. “Eccentric.”

Jessica set her whiskey down on the table and then fell back against the couch cushions. “This is exhausting.”

“You don’t have to think about it right now. Give yourself some time to process everything.”

Sighing, Jessica shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. She felt paper crumple inside one of them. Confused, she pulled the paper out and unfolded it. It was the hand-drawn map Steve had left for her that very same morning. Jessica turned it over and her eyes were drawn to his admittedly very pretty handwriting. _The map you were owed from the start._

Trish scooted over until her side was flush with her sister’s. Jessica eyed her.

“I still think you could use some more friends,” Trish said, refusing to meet Jessica’s glare.

“Don’t push it.”

“Okay, okay. Wanna watch something to take your mind off it?”

Jessica pondered. “Blade Runner?”

“Sure,” said Trish, though her brows lifted. “I didn’t know you were into sci-fi.”

“I heard it’s about identity issues, or something.”

For the next four days Jessica crashed at Trish’s apartment, ate Trish’s food, and slept on Trish’s couch. No further texts were received from any of the Avengers. She alternated between dwelling on what had happened and distracting herself at bars, and Malcolm even swung by a few times to update them on his own situation. It turned out he’d gotten a hotel suite from the newly implemented disaster relief that was more luxurious than average, and Jessica figured she knew why.

It was on the fifth day that she decided maybe, just maybe, these bridges weren’t ready to be burned so immediately. She repacked her satchel with what little was still hers and set out for Avengers’ Tower once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! I didn't actually mean for this one to take so long, oops. This chapter was difficult for me in a way, but I think it was a necessary step in Jessica's journey. Thank you all for being patient with me.


End file.
